Coming Home
by she blushes in ink
Summary: Thorin comes home.


The road was long and dangerous, but it was worth it, to return home.

It was infested with orcs, and elves, and all sorts of other nasty things, but he is _coming home_.

He repeats this to himself, and it is his strength; the stone in his stomach is heavier than it was when he faced Smaug.

He raps smartly at the door. When there is no answer, he offers another polite knock before growing impatient and knocking twice as fast as propriety dictates.

'Coming,' Bilbo's voice calls, and his heart speeds up in his chest. It is Bilbo's voice, but it has none of his spirit — it is dead and docile, quiet and worn. He can hear Bilbo's quiet muttering: 'At this hour?'

The door swings open and Thorin feels exposed, laid bare to the heart.

'Thorin,' Bilbo murmurs. His eyes are unreadable until they begin to brim with tears. As saddening as the tears are, he prefers it to that blank look. 'I thought you were dead.'

'And now you can see that I am not,' Thorin retorts, and draws Bilbo into a hug that the hobbit does not protest. He makes his voice soft but it is still rough, like the hands he slides over Bilbo's shoulderblades.

'You left. After everything.'

After Azog. After the Arkenstone. After Smaug.

'Yes. I did.'

'But why?' The question wrenches itself out of him, as Thorin was waiting for, as Thorin prepared for, but he finds that all his carefully prepared answers have been lost somewhere in the journey. 'You would have fought to your death to go home - '

'I would have,' he agrees, face veiled by the shadow night is casting over his face. Thorin is thankful that it can hide his weakness, but Bilbo is lifting his arm as if to banish it. 'And I still will.'

Bilbo sighs. 'I do not understand dwarves. You have ventured far away from Erebor, Thorin.'

'I have,' he confirms.

Bilbo rubs his forehead. 'Have you come to convince me to leave the Shire? I would, Thorin, I would, but I have Frodo.'

Thorin stills.

'Frodo?' he asks, words so soft he thinks that Bilbo can hear something crackling in his heart. 'Ah. Am I in the middle of something?'

'Why would you think that?'

Thorin shrugs. 'It is the night hour.'

'And Frodo is fast asleep. It is just my book and I. Come in, Thorin.' Thorin finds himself being coaxed inside, against his will, into another man's territory.

He feels a little sick.

He should have ridden faster, ridden harder. If he had come earlier maybe Bilbo might still be his.

If Bilbo was ever his.

'Will your Frodo mind?' He keeps his tone light, but Bilbo looks at him like his face is something awful. Maybe it is.

'Frodo? No. He would adore you.' Bilbo gives Thorin a strange look. 'I write of Frodo often enough. Does the company not share my letters?'

_I left before your letters even arrived, _would be the proper response, but instead he asks dumbly, 'Your letters?'

He chuckles. 'I write pages and pages about Frodo.' The shadows are off his face. His eyes are glowing by the light of the moon.

Jealousy, cutting some place he didn't know could hurt. 'I see.'

'What troubles you, friend?'

'Nothing,' Thorin lies instantly. _Friend._

Bilbo frowns at him. There's concern shimmering in his eyes and Thorin does his best to not notice it. 'You look ill, Thorin.'

_I'm fine,_ he tries to say. _Everything is perfect._

Instead he blurts out the words burning in his heart: 'I think I might love you, Bilbo Baggins.'

Bilbo's face is unchanged for a long, terrifying moment before his head tilts and his lips part. 'Oh,' he breathes. 'Oh.'

_That's it? Oh?_

Thorin opens his mouth to say something sharp and intelligent and something that can salvage his pride, but he finds that there is nothing and that he cannot close his mouth and in the next moment Bilbo is kissing him, mouth opened against his.

Thorin pushes Bilbo away as fast as the thought comes. 'Frodo.'

Bilbo glances at Thorin dubiously. 'My nephew?'

It is Thorin's turn to breathe, 'Oh. Oh.' And he kisses Bilbo, this time properly, slowly, to share the fire burning in his heart.

When Bilbo pulls away he presses his lips against neck and whispers, 'Welcome home, then.'

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I don't own The Hobbit.

**Author's Note**: This is common enough already, but I don't recall seeing one where Thorin left Erebor for Bilbo, just Bilbo leaving the Shire for Thorin. Plus I just had to write it to put a rest to my creative energies for the day. /shrug Sorry if it's sloppy.


End file.
